


moonchild

by Chron_icles



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Everyone Loves Natsume Takashi, Gen, but its fluff, forgive me idk what to put in tags without spoiling the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26746990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chron_icles/pseuds/Chron_icles
Summary: Fujiwara Touko first saw the young boy on a hot summer day, in a nameless shrine deep in the woods of Yatsuhara. He disappears as soon as their eyes met, sinking into the shadows like he belongs there. The boy isn't scared of the dark, but he's scared ofher.Perhaps,Shigeru muses,he wasn't human.But what if he is?Touko doesn't have to pry; she can wait. Until she learns the language of his heart, and he learns the language of her affection. Cold silence will turn into discreet smiles, then a laugh, a tentative touch—it continues.A slow, steady progress.A connection.(Alternately — where Takashi grows up embracing theyoukaiside of his world.)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 337
Collections: RaeLynn's Epic Rec List





	1. The Boy, Roaming

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my contribution to the wonderful fandom of natsuyuu ^^  
> I have no major plans with this fic (and the chapters won't always be written in chronological order). It's really just for fun, so I'll try not to leave cliffhangers. I hope you enjoy "moonchild" as much as I enjoy writing it! :)

Fujiwara Touko first saw the boy on a hot summer day, in a nameless shrine deep in the woods of Yatsuhara. He was sitting on the ground, talking to one of the _komainu_ statues, and Touko’s first thought was, “If the stones were alive, they sure would love the boy.”

Then she got a proper look at him, and her heart breaks.

The boy is thin, almost sickly so, dressed in clothes at least a size smaller than him. His skin is littered with scrapes and scratches, covered in dirt, and—

Oh, dear. Had it been _her_ child, she would’ve—

No. _No need to go there, Touko._

That aside, the boy should be in school at this hour. So what is he doing here, all on his own? Touko had never seen him before. Maybe his family had just moved in? If so, he shouldn’t be so far from the main road, lest he would get lost. Do his parents know where he is?

Ah, this is truly worrying.

“Um, excuse me?” Touko calls.

The boy turns, and upon seeing her, scrambles to his feet, face full of surprise— no, full of _fear_. So much like that time she found her crow friend in the backyard—eyes wild and scared, flapping its trapped wings desperately. Only, this boy doesn’t make a sound. He takes one, two steps backwards, still watching her every movement.

Touko reaches out, and the boy flinches.

“No—Sorry, I mean, I’m—”

The boy runs and disappears behind the shrine.

“—not going to hurt you...”

Well, that was _terrible_. Perhaps she was too rash. At least the boy knows not to trust strangers.

Touko still worries. But she pushes the boy to the back of her mind, just momentarily. When she finishes her prayers, Touko decides to give in to her curiosity, and walks to the back of the shrine.

The boy is nowhere in sight.

She’ll come again tomorrow, then. _Just in case_.

* * *

‘Tomorrow’ brings a more merciful weather, bright and comfortably warm, which Touko is thankful for. She’s careful to leave the house at the exact same time, though now she brings lunch for two.

He might be hungry, she reasoned.

(He’s not your child. Don’t get carried away, now.)

To her disappointment, the shrine is empty. The _komainu_ seems to be watching her—must be a trick of the light—as she walks past the red _torii_ gates. She stops right in front of the shrine, and after a moment, sits on the wooden stairs.

Then, she waits.

The boy shows up nearing sunset. He runs into the shrine, constantly looking over his shoulder like he fears for his life, until he collapses right between the two _komainu_. Panting, he looks around; his eyes meet Touko’s, and he freezes. Touko gives him a small wave with a smile, the friendliest she could muster.

The boy looks away. He lays on the ground and stares at the darkening sky, instead.

Still, he doesn’t try to leave. Touko counts it as a win.

* * *

Days, then weeks passed in a similar manner, as the shrine visit seamlessly becomes part of Touko’s routine. It certainly adds to the list of her worries, but it’s also refreshing. She hasn’t had much to look forward to in a long time, so their ‘meetings’ always bring her joy, somehow. She could only hope it’s not one-sided. After all, the boy never says a word. He’s so quiet, Touko often doesn’t notice his arrival until—

Until... Until something strange happens. Always. A big gust of wind, or a shadow casting over the shrine, or an animal’s cry—it comes out of nowhere, and disappears within minutes, at most.

Well, she digresses. Though the boy might be an enigma, she can tell it’s not of a bad nature. It gets easier and easier to take her eyes off him; her curiosity has yet to be sated, but now she’s used to his faint presence. The book in her hand feels like a barrier, one she puts up to ensure _his_ safety.

(I’m not here to hurt you. You can leave anytime you want. Or you can stay.)

It continues. Touko learns to see the world from the boy’s eyes; to put her trust in the shrine and every part of nature surrounding it. The boy learns to trust her.

Summer ends with the boy sitting within her arm’s reach, a fat cat sleeping on his lap. She turns to him. A soft “Good afternoon,” and for the very first time, he dares to look at her.

His golden, glass-like eyes feel empty.

Touko vows she would fill them with love.

* * *

Touko starts asking questions, yet nobody knows what she’s talking about. No one remembers the shrine, and each of them told her to “stay away from the woods”. When she described the boy, they all only shake their heads.

It haunts her.

But it’s easy to forget, when the boy is within her sight. He’s so...

He’s a child. And you can’t always understand children—you just have to accept them. You just have to give, and give, and give.

“Oh, have I told you my name?”

He turns to her, and tilts his head.

“It’s Fujiwara Touko, but you can call me Touko.” She picks up a wooden stick and writes her name on the dirt. Touko isn’t sure if the boy can read, but she wants to give him options, in case he doesn’t want to talk yet.

“Could you tell me your name?”

The boy stays still. For a moment, she was hopeful.

Then he gives her a sad smile and turns away.

“That's alright,” Touko reassures.

She never brings it up again.

* * *

Often, Touko comes bearing gifts. The boy loves any food she brought him, but his cat especially loves sweets, so today, it’s _manjuu_ from Nanatsujiya. She carefully places the box between them, and as the cat takes his share, she fills the silence with one-sided conversation.

“It’s getting cold, isn’t it?”

The boy, who had been lying on the grass— he seems to live in his own little world, where the wind cradled him and the trees sang to him, —shrugs, and closes his eyes. He seems unbothered by the chilly autumn air.

“You really should dress warmer! Don’t forget to wear a jacket tomorrow!”

The boy opens his eyes, and turns to look at her. There’s something in his expression; something sad... nostalgic, even.

(“I wish I could,” is what she imagines him saying.)

He covers it up almost immediately, but not quick enough. Touko has taken off her own scarf and hastily wraps it around his neck, giving him no chance to freak out at her sudden touch (she hadn’t realized. Had she seen his face, she would’ve stopped herself).

The scarf is a little too big on him; the ends barely hang above the ground, and his cat has started playing with it. The boy, however, is not as relaxed. He stares at her in confusion, with his hands gripping the fabric like he wasn’t sure what it meant.

“I don’t want you to get sick,” she tells him. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s okay, you can keep it.”

The boy bows his head.

It takes all her willpower not to hug him tight.

* * *

It has been over two months since they first met and at this point, Touko is absolutely certain, there’s something wrong. She can’t put her finger on it. The boy’s expressions, his reactions, his behaviours, they’re always... always, just _slightly_ off, but all of them adds up to a pile of ‘wrong’.

Not that it’s the boy’s fault, really.

“Shigeru-san knows,” Touko says, her voice steady, despite the erratic beating of her heart, “that I’ve been coming here to see you.”

It really is not a terrible thing. Her husband is an understanding man, and he sure does not mind Touko making new friends, even if the said ‘friend’ is a strange little boy from the woods. It’s just—she wasn’t sure if the boy wanted to be known.

But he doesn’t seem angry, no. Instead, the boy gulps, and pulls his cat closer to his chest.

(Most children would be asking questions, or in a worse scenario, throw a tantrum. They wouldn’t curl into themselves like the world is against them.)

“I’m sorry it’s so sudden, but is it okay if he comes with me, tomorrow?”

He bites his lip, and slowly nods, as if he’s afraid to say no.

“Are you sure?”

The boy turns away, and of course Touko wouldn’t push him. While it would be wonderful if her 2 favorite people get to know each other, she doesn’t want to hurt this boy in the slightest.

But sometimes, getting hurt is necessary, too. She can’t protect him forever, that would be unfair for him.

“We’ll see what happens tomorrow, then,” she decides. She can leave it up to the boy; surely, Shigeru-san will understand. “I’ll tell him: if he’s lucky, he might get to see you.” Touko finishes with a wink.

The boy laughs. It’s soundless, but still precious.

* * *

Shigeru was... not unlucky.

Touko leads him to the same narrow path she had always taken. The trees seem to have grown overnight; it’s a little past noon, but the leaves shield them from the sunlight. And yet, much to Shigeru’s surprise, she has no issue navigating through the dark woods.

“I didn’t know there was a shrine here,” he points out upon their arrival.

“I only found it by accident,” Touko explains, smiling fondly, “But it seems well-maintained, so...” _So there must be someone who treasures this place, perhaps more than I do._

As it turns out, they didn’t have to wait long.

Shigeru was the first who notices the boy’s tiny form, just outside the gates. He hesitantly walks into the shrine, and stops to speak to one of the _komainu_ statues. It reminds her of their first meeting; his voice is so soft she couldn’t hear him, but from his expression, she knows the conversation is real. It’s important, at least for the boy.

Touko wouldn’t be surprised, if Shigeru deems the boy unstable. It would be sad, yes, but she knows it wouldn’t change her own feelings.

Shigeru is still quiet, watching the scene unfolds.

The boy turns (and, oh, he’s wearing the scarf Touko gave him). For a moment, he stands still, but then he smiles and shyly waves at them. Shigeru nods in approval. Touko lets out a relieved breath.

Strangely enough, his cat is nowhere in sight. Instead, there’s a faint, enormous shadow looming over him, almost like a shelter. When the boy retreats, stepping back from the statues, the shadow follows. He sits on the ground and the giant gates creak just slightly.

“A strange boy, indeed. You certainly know him better than I do,” Shigeru tells her, “but I’m glad he has you.”

It’s comforting. Still, Touko wishes she could know more, and do more, and just _help_ the boy more. He needs it. He needs more than just a stranger who sees him and talks to him each day. The boy needs a family. He needs home-cooked meals three times a day, a warm bed, and—

By the next day, Touko hasn’t stopped thinking about it. It leaves her restless, and she found herself rushing towards the shrine. For some reason, a part of her fears that the boy would just... disappear.

He doesn’t. She reaches the shrine, only to see the boy waiting for her. He’s tense, she notices, but it’s not the same. It’s not his usual anxiety. It’s not fear.

It’s... nervousness? Excitement?

Touko crouches next to him. “What is it?” she half-whispers, curious. It just feels like a secret.

The boy smiles. He picks up a small fallen branch.

 _Takashi_ , he clumsily writes on the ground, and gestures at himself.

Touko beams. “Nice to meet you, Takashi-kun!”

* * *

(More questions. More phone calls. In such a small city, almost everyone knows each other.)

_(There’s no ‘Takashi’ in Yatsuhara.)_

* * *

_-to be continued_


	2. The Woman, Wondering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Touko forgets, Takashi is no ordinary child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments in the previous chapter! I never know how to reply to them, but they always made my day! :) On another note, I'm having exams soon, so it will be a while before the next update...
> 
> I love the way Takashi looks in manga, and I almost used it for the entirety of this story. But I didn't. Well, it will have its moments. In canon, Takashi is more human than I expected him to be. If he's that spiritually strong, surely it would come with a price? (no, this is just me playing with the idea of Youkai!Takashi.)

Despite his silence, talking to Takashi is surprisingly easy. He’s very expressive; he wears his heart on his sleeve, and his emotions bleed through every single part of him. From the twinkle in his eyes to the slightest pause in his footsteps, there are countless ways to understand him even without hearing his voice.

(Touko considers herself good at reading people. Perhaps, part of it may be due to her own husband’s quiet nature.)

It only takes a little bit of patience and observation. If she asks the right questions, Takashi is quick to tell his own stories, in his own way.

“Did you find all of these yourself, Takashi-kun?”

He shakes his head, still with a proud smile on his face.

“Did someone help you?” A small nod. “Your friends?” _Yes._

It’s a perfect day with perfect weather, and Takashi had brought her a basket of fresh, hand-picked wild berries. It’s the sweetest she’d ever tasted; she hopes Shigeru-san could also try it. Next time, maybe.

“Oh, it’s delicious! Thank you, Takashi-kun. Give my thanks to your friends, too. I would like to tell them myself, one day. If that’s alright with you?”

Takashi doesn’t reply. Instead, he gingerly extends his hand towards Touko’s, careful to watch her reaction. His small hand feels cold against hers, but Touko remains quiet. Waiting.

Then, he rises to his feet, pulling her with him.

Their short journey passes in a blur—it’s hard to keep up with his quick footsteps, especially with her mind full of numerous questions. _What’s wrong? Where are we going? Why hurry?_

_How... How can you be so sure, to take me with you?_

Takashi stops in a small clearing next to a river. From the bushes, his cat joins them, meowing softly to announce his arrival. It’s endearing, watching the boy and the cat and how they treat each other. It’s more than just a master and his pet, and it’s not just Nyankichi.

That afternoon, Touko learns: the forest _loves_ Takashi.

The animals don’t hesitate to approach; tiny critters would come up to him and Takashi greets them like he would a friend. As he speaks, the trees sway in agreement. Touko couldn’t hear his voice, but she knows, it’s a language she will never understand.

On the river, Takashi leaps from one rock to another, and the clear water splashes behind him. It follows his graceful steps, and often, Takashi would look back, like he’s waiting for it.

The forest loves Takashi, and Takashi loves it back.

It’s almost surreal. For someone to be so in tune with their surroundings—how long has he been here? How can this tiny paradise know him so well?

There’s no answer. And yet, it explains more than what she could’ve ever asked.

When Takashi grew tired and fell asleep beside her, Touko brushes the hair out of his face and reminds herself of his humanity. The forest quiets down, mindful of their friend’s well-needed rest. Across her, the cat—always so protective—stares at her with such intensity, Touko could almost hear the question.

“I think,” Touko answers, truthfully, “Takashi-kun is really special.”

She returns home with a crown of wildflowers that don’t wilt for so, so long.

* * *

It started, as usual, with a light-hearted question.

_“They're holding another festival,” Touko points out. Yatsuhara, albeit small, is very festive at times. “Have you gone there?”_

_He hasn’t._

_“Will you?”_

_The cat meows—a clear confirmation, but Takashi is stuck between ‘yes’, ‘no’, and ‘I don’t know.’ Whatever is holding him back must’ve left him conflicted, and Touko ends up changing her question._

_“Would you like to go, Takashi-kun?”_

Hence, it was decided that he would join the Fujiwaras to see the festival on that same night.

(An impulsive decision, one she would continue to mull over in several years to come.)

Well, that was a few hours ago. At the moment, it was her own excitement that brought her to the edge of the forest, a little before sunset. It’s just in time. Takashi has also arrived, and, oh—

_Oh._

Instead of his usual plain shirt, Takashi is dressed in a dark red kimono. All over it are flowers of different shapes and sizes—pink peonies and white chrysanthemums, lined in gold. A strange choice for autumn. Regardless, it’s a beautiful garment; Touko almost doubts it was made by human hands.

“Ah, Takashi-kun! Have you been waiting for long?”

The boy shakes his head. Nyankichi jumps out of his arms, quiet, watching Shigeru with careful eyes as it slowly approaches him.

(Takashi is so lucky, to have such a smart cat by his side.)

“Come on, let’s go.” She starts to pull him along by his hand. “The festival is just this way. Do you want anything in particular—” she falls silent, as she realized her mistake: Takashi can’t answer open-ended questions.

But Takashi tugs at her arm and when she turns, he was waving his hand in front of his face.

“A mask?”

Yes, that’s what he wanted. Takashi chooses one resembling a white fox with red markings; he keeps staring at it with a thoughtful look on his face. Nyankichi apparently disapproves, and didn’t stop complaining until Touko buys another mask: an orange, cat-like mask that, to be honest, looks more like a normal cat than Nyankichi does.

She feels like she ends up coddling the cat instead. Not that she minds—it gives Shigeru a chance to talk to the boy, and so far, Takashi is warming up to him.

As children do, Takashi absorbs everything around him. Colors, voices, people and animals and objects and whatever else he could see, his attention darts from one to another. He asks questions. Still unspoken, but it’s clear. A tilt of his head, a scrunch of his nose, always eager to learn. Shigeru is more than willing to teach him about—

_—all the things Takashi should've learned from his own parents._

Touko does not have the courage to ask. Earning Takashi’s name is already a miracle in her eyes, and she can’t bring herself to dig more into his past. _How old are you? When is your birthday? Where ~~was~~ is your home? Your parents? What about the rest of your family? _

_Why are you here?_

(Takashi-kun never mentions it. He has his friends, she knows that, and she has seen his cat, but he never speaks of his family. Are they... gone? Or not? Is it on purpose? Or does he not remember? Does he not know?)

In her arms, the cat meows loudly.

“What is it, Nyankichi-kun? Are you still hungry?”

* * *

Takashi tells her, it’s his first time seeing fireworks.

(The noises scared him. It’s a lot like thunders, and he hated it. Before, whenever he heard those explosive sound, he would stay inside and wait for it to pass.)

Right here, right now, is his first time seeing the fireworks. And from his expression, he’s certainly captivated by it. A child’s awe may worth little in gold, but Touko knows, among all the fireworks she had seen in her lifetime, she will remember tonight’s as the most beautiful.

No matter what the future holds, she will remember tonight.

It will be a good memory, but still, something keeps gnawing inside her. She thought she had gotten used to it—the feeling of _wrong_ whenever she sees Takashi and what he does. He’s unfamiliar with what he should’ve known by heart; splitting chopsticks, tying shoes, he put so much effort in the simple things others can do half-asleep.

And yet. Takashi knows more of the universe than he lets on, that much she’s certain. He’s careful in his gestures—always so mindful of—

—of what, Touko can’t tell. But Takashi carries this air of gentleness, one that cannot be taught, only learnt from years upon years of experience.

Takashi is kind, she surmised. Takashi had been surrounded by kind people, and that made him kind, too.

It gets harder to leave him on his own.

(That's not her choice to make.)

The festival ends. Shigeru and Touko walk Takashi back to where they picked him up a few hours ago—right at the end of the dirt path, in the middle of the forest. Across them is the first of the many _torii_ gates leading up to their shrine.

“Are you sure?” Touko asks, “We can drop you off at your home, Takashi-kun. It really is no trouble.”

Slowly, in a very Takashi-like manner, he shakes his head. The boy steps forward, putting some distance between himself and the Fujiwaras, as he folds his hands behind his back.

Then he looks up, at the dark, gentle night sky, and lets out a quiet sigh.

Under the moonlight, he looks... detached. The golden of his hair, along with the shade of his skin seem paler, but the glow in his eyes appears to be brighter. Otherworldly. Had Touko not know him, she would’ve thought that he’s a...

No, not a ghost. Not quite. He’s too _alive_ for that. Maybe... a spirit, would be more appropriate.

Under the moonlight—Takashi looks like he belongs _right there_ , surrounded by the rustling leaves and the red _torii_ gates looming behind him. Gone is the warm, sun-kissed boy from the shrine in the woods; here, he is cold. Inhumanely light to the touch. He may as well be an apparition, and Touko would have no reason to disbelieve it.

(“He’s ours. This child, blessed by the moon and the spirits and all the things you cannot reach,” the forest seems to whisper, “he’s ours. Don’t take him away from us.”)

Was Shigeru-san right, all along? Was Takashi not human?

Is that what she’s afraid of, right now?

Shigeru was the first to break the silence. “Alright then. Thank you, Takashi-kun.” His voice is calm, but Touko can feel his grip tightens around her hand. “I enjoyed it.”

His words are sincere. Touko adores that part of him—when it matters the most, Shigeru-san always knows what to say.

“I agree. It was fun, Takashi-kun,” she tells the boy. “See you tomorrow?”

Takashi bows at the two of them. With a smile, he turns around and gestures for his cat to follow him, as he enters the forest. The fox mask hangs on the side of his head—a mockery to Touko’s previous thoughts.

 _You have all these doubts in you,_ it reminds her, _But you did nothing about it._

As Takashi faded from her sight, Touko breathes in _relief_.

* * *

(In the empty shrine, a giant shadow looms over its master. It bares its fangs and demands for clarity.)

_(“Takashi, are you sure we can trust them?”)_

* * *

_-to be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I have no artistic ability but words cannot express how much I love Takashi in yukata, he's beautiful)


	3. The Others, Opposing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some, selfishly, still want Takashi for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say I have exams but guess what—my brain decides this chapter is more important than biology. Let's hope that I won't fail :/

Their morning didn't start well.

"Touko-san, have you seen my keys?" Shigeru asks, as he enters the kitchen. Touko, who had been washing their dishes, rinses her hands and frowns at him. 

"No," she answers, a little surprised. Shigeru was never the careless type. "Did you remember bringing it home last night?" 

"Yes, I did. I put it on my desk, but now I can't find it." 

Well, there's no use dwelling on it. Touko opens the drawer and retrieves her own set of keys. She puts them in his palm, as she ushers him to the _genkan_. "Here, you can bring mine. I'll be fine without it just for a day." 

"What about ..." Shigeru trails off. 

_(What about you? Aren't you also leaving the house later? To see Takashi?)_

"Don't worry, Shigeru-san. I can use yours after I find them," she assures him. "Come on, you should get going now, or you'll be late!" 

Shigeru does not seem convinced, though he glances at his watch and starts putting on his shoes. "A-Alright. I'll be leaving, then."

"See you later!" 

After the front door closes, Touko begins her search. The bedroom, the kitchen, the study, she scoured each place she could think of. She spent hours not on the entrance of the small shrine, but in the silence of her own house. 

(She has forgotten how lonely it felt, all by herself in that empty house. Too big for two, even worse for one.)

They never found the keys. 

In the end, Shigeru makes another copy.

* * *

Maybe, it could've been a funny anecdote. "It's rare for us, to be so clumsy. How could we lose such a thing?" she would say, and hope that Takashi will forgive her for not visiting yesterday. Was he lonely? Did he wait for her? She feels bad, just thinking about it. 

However, Nyankichi is restless, and Takashi himself seems distracted. Sometimes he would look around wildly, as if searching for something, and other times he would stare off into space with a deep frown. Any other day, Touko would sum it up as another of "Takashi's thing". 

But she doesn't. His expression tells her there's more to it. More, and perhaps worse. 

When asked, he brushes it off with a smile, a silent "Don't worry about me." He feels distant again, almost like the early days of their unlikely friendship. Touko doesn't like it. So she stops asking, doesn't push, and hopes that his worry will resolve itself soon. 

And of course, she keeps hers a secret, too.

* * *

Three days later, it was Shigeru's glasses. 

Touko found them under the desk. The frame was bent in several parts, almost folded in two. One of the lenses is cracked, and the other, completely broken.

 _It doesn't make sense,_ was her first thought. Shigeru agrees, but he tells her not to worry as he puts on his spare ones.

"This house acts strange sometimes," he tells her. "But it's okay. This isn't the first time. And it's just glasses, we can always buy new ones."

Touko would like to disagree. She relents, though, and follows through the rest of the day as usual. She does the laundry, she cooks lunch, then she sets off to the shrine. Still distracted.

 _It doesn't make sense,_ because the glasses she bought Shigeru were sturdy. He has had them for _years_ , and she just couldn't picture any way for it to be so damaged on accident. Such thing could only be done by human hands, deliberately. 

Did someone else do it? If so, when? 

By the time Shigeru came home yesterday, it was still intact. He only took them off last night when he went to sleep, and then they didn't find it until morning.

Are there, perhaps... someone else? Something else, in the house? 

Granted, Touko is not the most superstitious person around. Neither is Shigeru. But her meeting with Takashi had changed some of her beliefs; there's more of the world than what her senses can find on their own. There are things she would never discover, but it would be wrong to deny their existence. They also have their lives, and not entirely separate from humans', too. 

(There's no other explanation. The gentle wind, the swaying trees. The creaking gates. The splashes in the river. The rustling leaves that night, as the moon seems to whisper _he's ours, don't take him, he's ours—_ )

"Nya?"

Touko looks down, to see Nyankichi sitting by her feet. The cat, again, meows. Once. Twice. Watching her with ~~its~~ his large eyes, like he's trying to read her mind.

"Are you on your own today, Nyankichi-kun?" she asks, "Alright. Come on, we shouldn't keep Takashi-kun waiting."

* * *

Another day with Nyankichi escorting her, and afterwards, it was Takashi who picks her up. She found him waiting for her at the edge of the forest, sitting on the ground, a few steps away from the main road.

(He's staring at... ~~nothing~~ something, just a little below his eye level. His lips are sealed shut, and with a frown on his face, he occasionally gives the tiniest nods, until he notices her presence.)

She greets him first. It's hard to stay as cheerful as usual, with another 'accident' occurring this morning, but she still tried. Upon hearing his name, Takashi rushes to her side.

He takes her left hand, about to pull her along, but he stops in his tracks and turns to look at her face. 

Then, at her hand.

(Touko realizes, Takashi is better with secrets than she is. Not only at keeping them, but also at discovering them.)

He certainly notices it. The neat, lighter shade on her skin circling the end of her ring finger, now uncovered for the first time in years. 

(Touko didn't want Takashi to know.) 

He takes her right hand and finds it empty, too. 

(A simple "I left my ring at home" should've done the trick, right? She shouldn't let him worry about her. But she couldn't say it.)

She couldn't bring herself to lie. Not about her wedding ring. 

"I—..." _I lost it._ "I have to look for it, later. Hopefully I can find it before Shigeru-san notices."

Takashi gives her a skeptical look, though in the end, he nods to himself. As he releases her hand, he turns away and starts walking. She follows him closely. He takes her through a different route; there's barely a clear path, and he's careful not to let her fall behind. Had she been alone, she would've certainly gotten lost.

Not long after, Takashi halts.

"What's the matter, Takashi-kun?"

He doesn't answer. In fact, he doesn't seem to hear her, with his attention completely diverted to _something_ far in the distance. He squints his eyes, before his expression morphs into surprise as he pushes her away from the path. 

Then, it happened.

A violent gust of wind blows over the two of them—it knocks Takashi onto the ground, but he quickly turns to her direction as he reaches out, and _yells—_

"DON'T TOUCH HER!" 

The air stills. Takashi rises to his feet, now with a wooden branch in his hand, wielding it like a sword against his invisible adversary. 

(There's no one but the two of them, nothing but the layer of cold that settles around them, not much different from the dread in her.) 

"... Takashi-kun?"

He ignores her. He's staring—no, _glaring_ at whatever threat is in front of them. Furious. Scared. He shaking, and he's so pale, how can he stay on his feet like that?

"I won't let you hurt her," Takashi says, "She's my friend."

Touko never thinks she would ever hear his voice. It's so... distant. So unlike the kindhearted boy she had grown to love, and it hurts when she realises there's a whole different side of him she never got to see.

"That was your doing, too, wasn't it?" A pause. "What do you mean?"

Whatever answer Takashi receives, he does not like it. He seems so, so tired—the kind of exhaustion from someone who has tried so hard to speak, but was never listened—when he pleads, "You have no rights to do that. Please—"

Takashi falls. He lands on his back, and instantly, his hands go up to the front of his neck, trying to pull himself free as his breaths turn into a short, shallow gasp. 

"Takashi-kun!" 

(What's going on? Is it only in his head, or is it real? She can't see it, she doesn't know what it is, so how can she help? She has to help him, but what if she made it worse?) 

His face grows paler with each passing second. Yet something is holding her back—an invisible force blocking her from taking a single step closer.

(She can't help him.) 

His eyes are starting to close. His grip loosens, and Touko has never felt more afraid.

(Will she ever be able to help him?) 

Then, he drops his arms as he _finally_ takes a deep breath. His eyes are still a bit unfocused, though now he's looking at the trees above them. He seems... relieved.

(Something else had saved him. He's safe and _thank you, gods, thank you, he's safe,_ surely he doesn't need her, then?)

There's so many things she wanted to ask, but none of it feels right, aside from checking if he's alright. 

"Y-Yeah, I'm okay," he assures, looking at her for a moment before he turns away. He stands up, carefully watching a spot high above the two of them. 

Is it not over yet? 

But Takashi doesn't seem as scared anymore, so Touko supposes she could wait. As she always does. 

(Patience is virtue. It's all she has, all she could do to try to help him.)

His expression darkens. Angry. Disappointed. Upset. He frowns, and it feels like a really long moment before he speaks up. 

"I warned you, didn't I? Sorry, but you're no longer welcome here."

Another pause, then he shakes his head. 

"We'll let you go, under one condition." Stern, but kind. Was he talking to the same being who hurt him before? "Return what you've stolen, please."

She sees him catching something mid-air. She sees the forest path brightens just a little, as if the clouds has uncovered the sun above them. She sees the way Takashi finally _relaxes_ , leaning on a tree behind him as he stares at whatever he got in his hand. She sees Nyankichi emerging from the bushes, waiting next to the boy's feet, completely calm, as if this whole thing has happened too many times before.

Perhaps it has.

Takashi raises his head. Touko takes a step closer. 

"Touko-san... I-I'm—" he falters, avoiding her gaze, "I'm sorry." He holds out his hand, revealing the object resting on his palm.

_It's her wedding ring._

"Takashi-kun, how did you ..."

"It was a misunderstanding!" he says, "He—He doesn't like that I'm spending too much time with you, because he thinks I should only be friends with him, so he's trying to scare you. But, but it's okay! He said sorry. He can't return the others, but he said sorry. And he's not going to do it again, Nyanko-sensei—I'll make sure he—"

"Takashi-kun, _breathe_." She interrupts his ramblings, cupping his cheeks in her hands as she looks into his eyes, now brimming with tears. "It's okay. Everything's okay."

He shakes his head, still insistent that _no, it's not, you got hurt and I should've known,_ and his panic leaves Touko speechless, because _Takashi, you are a child, there should be no such responsibilities on your shoulders—_

"—but I'm safe now. I'm alright, and I even got my ring back."

Takashi goes quiet, watching her with fearful eyes. Grabbing the front of her shirt, refusing to let go, as if afraid that she would disappear.

"It's all thanks to you, Takashi-kun. I'm so, so grateful. Thank you."

_For risking yourself, for my sake. For being so brave, so selfless, even though you don't have to._

_For letting me hear your voice._

"Thank you so much, Takashi-kun."

In her arms, Takashi cries.

* * *

(Winter begins with Touko cooking dinner for three-and-a-half. Upstairs, Shigeru prepares the room for a young boy and his cat.)

_(Fujiwara Takashi enters their home, and he stays.)_

* * *

_-end._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of Touko's arc! (Did I say we're having arcs? No? Well, now you know).
> 
> Here's a reminder that this story won't always be in chronological order—between each arcs, at least. Most arcs will be consisted of a single chapter, unless there's a "to be continued" at the end (as in ch. 1 & 2).
> 
> Anyways! I don't know when can I update next, because I still have exams, but—
> 
> —yeah, IT'S NOT THE END OF THE STORY, so see you later ^^


	4. The Beast, Purring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a youkai, Madara never thought he would end up with a human child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, all of your comments are the only reason I stayed sane through my exams so THANK YOU. I should start trying to reply but it's so hard TT^TT
> 
> (Btw please don't get used to biweekly updates, that was me avoiding my responsibilities and now that I'm on uni break...)  
> (Just—just don't expect too much from me. I even forgot how a human functions and... it didn't end well.) 
> 
> So! This arc will end up longer than I expected, but also heavier. Just slightly. I'm not sure if it was too early for me to reveal this much, but whatever. I hope you'll like it ^^

_(Natsume Takashi was 6 when he last set foot in the mansion.)_

The kid hasn't said a word. He's never been the noisy type, though Madara expected him to be in hysterics right now.

He's not. Takashi is just... quiet. Standing still in front of this _terrible_ sight, wide eyes almost clouded and lips half-parted. He doesn't make a sound—not even a sob, let alone a scream.

Madara supposes it's for the best. It's easier, if the kid doesn't struggle.

"Madara-sama!" several voices call. Some low-ranking youkai—servants of the house, the house that's burning with bright blue flames right now—who dare to show their faces after—

"MADARA-SAMA!"

_"What?!"_

"Is the Young Master with you? Is he—Oh, there he is, thank the gods! The Young Master is alright! He's unharmed!" The youkai begin to fuss over the kid, checking for any injuries, and Madara takes that chance to speak to their leader.

"Where's the kid's father?"

_Is he dead? It would be a tragedy._

"The Lord—Sir, he is—" the youkai, Hiroki, fumbles with his own words, "Lord Natsume was asleep, and—we're sorry, we're so sorry, we should've been here sooner—by the time we arrived, the fire had—" Hiroki finally burst into tears, prompting more youkai to panic as some of them struggle to console their leader.

Madara takes the time to mull over Hiroki's information.

_A fire. Spirit fire, of all things—bright blue flames devouring not wood or concrete, only magic and life itself—there’s no mistaking it. Few youkai have such ability, it should be no accident._

_Lord Natsume was asleep. Did he truly not realize his life was in danger? Or did he wake up, but failed to escape?_

Madara approaches his ward.

_Either way, it's a tragedy. Each Natsume dies younger than the last. Would this child be the same?_

"Takashi," the youkai calls. The child looks at him, without a single hint of distrust; Madara can't tell if that's a good or bad thing. "We're leaving. Come on."

"But where's Dad...?"

"He didn't make it." Madara gently bites onto the back of Takashi's collar, and pulls the kid away from his youkai servants. "It's just you and me now, Takashi."

Takashi nods, still too calm despite the calamity brought upon him. Perhaps the gravity of the situation hasn't fully sink in; Madara would give it a day or two before the boy breaks down. That's fine. Right now, his priority is taking the boy somewhere safe, away from _humans_.

(Madara doesn't know how to raise a child, but he has seen how corrupt humans are. Surely, he can't do worse than them?)

Too bad, some still disagrees.

"What are you doing, Madara-sama?!" Hiroki exclaims. For a tree youkai, he's crossing the line—Madara ought to put him back in his place. "Where are you going? Shouldn't we wait for the humans to arrive?"

Fools. "Let's go, Takashi."

"Madara-sama! Young Master Natsume is a human child! He belongs with the rest of his kind!"

_The rest of his kind, who shunned his family? Who pushed Reiko to her limit, who barely acknowledged her son-in-law, who abandoned the current heir? The rest of his kind, who sees youkai as pests, and considers the one clan who didn't, a disgrace?_

Madara growls. "He's a powerful, _impressionable_ human child! Any exorcist clan would like to get their hands on him, and I will not risk that."

"But—"

"You've failed your duty, Hiroki," Madara reminds him, "You failed to protect the master of the house. I have no reason to listen to you." As expected, Hiroki shuts his mouth. _Good._ "As for Takashi, I will care for him myself. You are free to leave."

Hiroki, along with the remaining youkai (Madara never bothered to remember their names), have the audacity to look _miserable._ It's disgusting. "What—What are we supposed to do now, Madara-sama?"

Madara scoffs. "Well, that's not my problem, is it? Do whatever. You're never bound to this place, so—"

Oh, he can still use them.

"On second thoughts, you can help the Young Master." Takashi looks confused, but he's smart enough not to ask. All the youkai readily agree, and even Hiroki has forgotten their previous dispute. Madara can barely hide his smirk. "It would be dangerous if anyone goes looking for him. They're no match against me, but it's better if he never meets those exorcists, don't you agree?"

"Go and spread the word;" Madara tells them, "the Natsume clan is no more."

_(Natsume Takashi was 6 when he first 'died'.)_

* * *

They travel. Madara guides the boy away from his hometown, avoiding humans and youkai alike. The Natsume blood hasn't been diluted enough—too many still remembers Reiko. Madara refuses to allow any of them taint the last heir of the clan.

He promised Reiko, to not hurt those bearing her last name.

He promised her son-in-law, to watch over the next heir.

And Madara also promised young Takashi, to stay by his side until his death.

(Promises are contracts. Madara never breaks any.)

Takashi is a quick learner, they discover. He absorbs _everything_ —humans and their cultures, youkai and their customs; sounds, smells, sights, anything the world can offer. He learns, and though his mind soon forgets the finer details, his body remembers the core of the lessons like it's part of his soul.

So Madara starts teaching him. He speaks in ancient tongues. Drags his claws over the ground, carving odd symbols foreign to human eyes. Takes the kid to shrines of old gods to be in their favor, then to the liveliest creeks for a peek at his future responsibilities.

("Your ancestors made a pact with youkai. The Natsume clan will protect us, and in return, we will never harm you."

"... Some of them still came after me. After my grandmother. Right?"

"Because Reiko misused her power," Madara tells the boy. "And you will not. I'll make sure of that.")

It's troublesome work, really.

But Natsume Takashi is an asset, and Madara would be damned if he let it go to waste.

* * *

_(Natsume Takashi was 7 when he learned of his heritage.)_

Shadows dance along the cave walls, as the wood crackle in the fire. Sparks fly, though Takashi doesn't notice, too occupied with the folded kimono on his lap. Madara, in his human form, easily flips through the pages of a book, mildly amused at the familiar names he found inside. It really is the only thing he cared about, the Book of Friends, but after painstakingly unsealing the storage, it just makes no sense to leave the rest behind.

So here they are, surrounded by old scripts and youkai-sewn garments and whatever else that smells like magic.

"It's all... my family's?"

Madara hums. "Mostly. Take a look, maybe you'll recognize one or two—I'm sure your father must've brought up some of them." He closes the book in his hands, placing it behind him as he transformed back into his beast form.

Takashi looks up, frowning at him. "What's that?"

"What?" Madara feigns ignorance.

"That green book. The one you're hiding under your tail."

_Ah, dammit. The kid noticed._

"It's nothing important. A human like you doesn't need to know," the youkai says, resting his head on his paws.

"Can I see it?"

"No."

"But why?"

"Stop asking questions, Takashi."

"Why are you hiding it?" the child insists, "That book isn't yours!"

"Oh, really? How would you know?"

"You're acting weird, Nyanko-sensei, so it can't be yours," it's almost stating the obvious; Madara slightly regrets teaching Takashi to be this sharp. "And... I think I've seen it before."

Outside, it rains. For once Takashi doesn't cower from the thunder—he stares straight into Madara's eyes with such a firm resolution, it's amusing. What can a human child do, against an ancient beast? His heritage can't save him; the kid is the last of his own and the world thinks he's dead. There will be no witness, if Madara were to devour him now.

But what's the fun in that?

"Why does it matter to you?" Madara asks instead.

A short pause, before Takashi explains, "It looks important. I just want to check... if that book is also from my family, then I want to take care of it."

 _Huh_. Madara expected as much. The child still has attachments to his dead family—maybe he still grieves, in his own way. It's not a bad thing. Imagine how great it would be, once he gets this defensive over _youkai_. Those pesky exorcists are sure to lose their minds.

"Are you going to steal it, Sensei?"

"Steal? Hah!" the youkai scoffs, "It's already mine. But say, if that's true. What'll you do about it?"

"You can't steal it."

"And how are you going to stop me, Takashi?" Madara challenges. "Do you think you can defeat me? Can you take the risk? If you were to die, that will be the end of the Natsume—"

"But you can't leave me, right?"

Excuse me?

"You promised." Takashi continues, furrowing his brows. _So young,_ Madara realizes, _and yet so sure of himself._

"You said you're gonna stay with me, Nyanko-sensei."

_The words don't sound heavy. It's simple. Innocent. Why do they stung like an accusation?_

_(Why do they keep haunting him?)_

"And we can't break promises. Right?"

_(Promises. Contracts. Spell-bound bond and blood-sealed fate. Don't forget, don't break, keep it safe, keep it sound, it's a connection—)_

The youkai laughs.

_Even I have almost forgotten, and you brought it up so easily—it's ridiculous. For you, a human, to put so much faith in a measly promise..._

_("I owe you. I don't leave my debts unpaid.")_

_I suppose this is why the exorcists fear your clan so much. You and Reiko both, what are you thinking?_

_But I digress. You're right, I don't break my contracts._

"Fair enough. Alright, Takashi," Madara lifts his tail, pushing the book forward, "Are you sure you would like to learn of this? Knowledge can be a burden."

Takashi frowns, but nods regardless.

"This book is very powerful. You will have to protect it at all costs. Are you ready for that?"

"Yes."

"Very well. Come here." Takashi scoots closer, picking up the book as he leans on the giant youkai. Madara curls around him, shielding the child from the wind and the rain as he begin his story.

"This is the Book of Friends. It belongs to your grandmother, Reiko ..."

_(Natsume Takashi was 7 when he accepted his role.)_

* * *

A human child requires more maintenance than he thought. Madara found himself regretting his decision almost every day, and each time he has to remind himself of his own dignity.

(The promise. The contract. The Book of Friends.)

Madara isn't too surprised when Takashi decides to return the names—it's almost to be expected. Still absurd, and still a waste of time, but it's impossible to change Takashi's mind.

 _Not that I have to,_ Madara thinks. _The deal is to stay with him until he dies. Then the Book will be mine. I just need to make sure he hasn't returned too many of those names before that._

As it turns out, luck seems to be on Madara's side. Returning a name takes a toll on Takashi; it leaves him too exhausted to keep an eye open, so it gets easier to weave the (half) lie.

("It's a high-level magic. You're still too young to do it. Don't you think it's wiser to wait for a few more years?"

"I want to release them as soon as possible."

"You're the last one with Reiko's breath. If you die now, they will never be free.")

Takashi listened. For some reason, he listened to whatever Madara told him.

(Of course, Natsume Takashi is still a handful—he asks too many questions, he's weak and often gets sick, he's tiny and can be hard to find, yet always stands out at the wrong times.

But he listened. Madara can tell him what not to do and the kid will remember, and tries his best to follow the youkai's advice.)

Madara wonders why.

* * *

_-to be continued._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s. What's the plural of youkai? Youkais? Or is it still youkai? I used "youkai" in this chapter, but tell me if you prefer "youkais".
> 
> p.p.s If there's a tag you think I should add, do tell!


	5. The Watchdog, Misjudging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their journey is not without risks, and Madara should've known better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to put this and ch. 6 as ONE chapter. Instead, you're getting this monstrosity of 2400+ words. Let's hope next chapter wouldn't end up too short TT^TT  
> ALSO:  
> 1\. Thank you for everyone who explains the 'youkai as plural' thing for me! You guys are awesome!  
> 2\. Thanks to [riverdaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverdaze/pseuds/riverdaze) bc "Thin Air" is one of my favorites so fyi I keep staring at your comment and idk what to say or how to reply

_(Natsume Takashi was 8 when he first fought a youkai.)_

The boy has once again baffled Madara, when he managed to attract attention at the worst of times and is now being followed by a black, bear-like youkai twice his size.

(Madara hates sharing. He hates sharing his food, his space, but most of all, he hates sharing his prey.)

The youkai is a mid-rank, at least, though for some reason she doesn’t talk. Madara couldn’t scare her off, either—she left, but always returned within hours—so after almost a week, now Madara just pretends not to see her.

Takashi, on the other hand, is completely unbothered.

(Madara thinks of the servants of the Natsume household. All were youkai of different shapes and sizes, and all were fond of the only 2 humans living in the house. Some stayed around Lord Natsume, but most preferred Takashi.)

“The brat’s probably used to it,” Madara grumbles, dragging the boar he had just hunted. Staying in his human form is not convenient, but this way, he doesn’t need to eat as much to satisfy his hunger. “Even back at the mansion, Hiroki always had someone babysitting that kid. I’ve never seen him without at least a youkai by his side.” He enters the small cave and dusts off his hands.

Madara announces his arrival, only to receive no reply.

(The cave is empty, except for Takashi’s measly belongings, everything he has left from his family.)

(It makes no sense. Takashi wouldn’t have left willingly without them, so was he taken? But even the Book of Friends is still here, intact. How? Why was the Book not stolen, too?)

( _Isn’t the Book worth more than a human child?_ Madara tries, and fails to convince himself.)

He returns to his true form, leaving giant footsteps on the snow in his hurry. The winter cold has never stopped him before, but right now, Madara hates it more than anything. He can barely track down Takashi’s human scent, and his eyes don’t help much to find that pale kid among the endless white.

 _Next time,_ Madara swears, _I’m dressing him in red._

If there is a ‘next time’.

Madara doesn’t find his ward, but he catches a glimpse of a bear running past him, towards the cliff at the end of the forest—

No, not a bear. It’s _that_ youkai.

Madara’s chest starts to burn.

“—NO! I’LL NEVER DO THAT!” he hears Takashi’s voice, screaming. Angry. “GO AHEAD! MAKE ME YOUR ENEMY! IT’S NOT MY LOSS!”

_I’ve heard that before. Somewhere, a long time ago._

His legs ache.

(Something’s wrong, something has been wrong for a while. He wasn’t supposed to be this weak. Sure, he hasn’t eaten as much—hunting has been quite a chore lately—but he was supposed to be stronger than this.)

“COME AT ME, IF THAT’S WHAT YOU WANT! YOU’RE NOT THE FIRST ONE!”

_Who said it, last time? An exorcist?_

Madara wills himself to fly, but his body feels heavier than ever.

(Why is he so _drained_? Is it really just the hunger? Perhaps that youkai did something to him?)

(Did he waste that much power, blocking out Takashi’s dreams from entering his mind?)

(How long has he been rejecting that kid?

That was cruel, wasn’t it?)

So he stays on his feet and keeps running.

“YOU WON’T BE THE LAST!”

_Was it Reiko?_

He’s close, but not enough. He could see the boy now, standing across the black youkai, arms stretched to balance himself as the back of his feet reaches the tip of the cliff.

Madara can see them, but he wouldn’t make it in time.

(Nobody sees it coming. Perhaps Takashi did, but Takashi does not speak unless he needed to, so of course Madara didn’t realize what was happening until it’s too late.)

The boy glances at Madara. Just a second, before the bear-like youkai snarls and lunges at him.

“TAKASHI!”

The boy dodges; barely, but he succeeds—unnaturally agile after a year in the wild. Takashi raises his own fist, slamming it onto the youkai’s muzzle with a furious yell.

The youkai collapses.

Beneath them, the cliff crumbles.

(Madara hates noisy children. But he regrets telling Takashi to be quiet, because Takashi never forgets.)

For the first time in his long, long life, Madara prays.

(And Madara knows, faith brings no salvation. Yet he bets on it. Maybe there was a god who remembers them—the human child and the white beast.)

Takashi falls. That split second was forever seared into Madara’s mind.

(Takashi is not talkative. Takashi is not expressive. But Madara couldn’t have mistaken it; that surprised look on Takashi’s face, when he loses his footing. A cold smile as he watches that black youkai loses her balance, and she too, fall.)

_Once upon a time, Madara asked, “What are you afraid of?”_

Madara screams the boy’s name.

_“I don’t know,” the human girl answered, “I can’t think of any.”_

The boy who isn’t afraid to die.

_(Natsume Takashi was 8 when he starts to resemble Reiko.)_

* * *

Reaching a standstill in their journey has, at least, allowed Madara to carefully study the human under his care. Or humans in general.

‘Allowed’, in a way that he can no longer join other youkai for their sake, because of a kid who stubbornly just refuses to die. To make it worse, Takashi is barely useful in his current state. Madara has to do all the necessary maintenance—food, shelter, Madara has to bring it all for this young, weak, fragile _human_.

It’s truly frustrating.

With nothing to do, Takashi asks more questions, too; of youkai, of exorcists, of his family and what he has in his name and blood. Madara slips up, sometimes, and resorts to silence when he loses track of the ‘truth’ he had crafted.

(Takashi never forces it out of him. The boy is certainly aware of Madara’s errors, yet he stays quiet. Observing Madara like their lives are some sort of a play, trying to figure out the storyline before it’s enacted.)

It’s only a mild inconvenience, compared to what Madara should be able to reap in a few years. Though he has to admit, it’s getting hard to ignore both the child and his ~~blind~~ trust. He can’t even tell if it was common of humans, or if Takashi is the only anomaly.

(Reiko was an indiscriminating tyrant and Takashi’s father was a distrustful diplomat. Compared to them, isn’t Takashi being too reckless, now?)

“Why are you here, Nyanko-sensei?”

Regardless, Madara does not regret his lies. They serve their purposes and, most of the time, are enough to sate the boy’s curiosity.

“You know the answer, brat.”

 _‘We had a contract.’_ Before, it was that simple. ‘ _I couldn’t leave.’_

“No. You could’ve left, sensei. But you’re still here.”

Takashi just had to ruin it, and the child knows, doesn’t he?

(Takashi should’ve died. Then, as per their contract, the Book of Friends will belong to Madara.)

Madara lifts his paw and throws a blanket over the child.

(Natsume Takashi should be dead.)

“Not anymore. I’m getting a drink,” he tells Takashi. “Be good and don’t get into trouble.”

* * *

_(Natsume Takashi was 9 when he became dangerous.)_

Looking back, maybe part of it was Madara’s own fault.

_It’s the witching hour, and Takashi has yet to fall asleep. Madara entered the cave after a long feast, only to find the child seated at one corner, wide awake and rubbing his eyes._

_“I can’t sleep,” he said, upon seeing the youkai, “It’s too heavy.”_

He should’ve listened. _What is?_ Madara should’ve asked. _Your last name? Your life? Your nightmares?_ Maybe they could’ve done something about it. Perhaps it could be fixed, or they could at least share the burden.

But his half-drunk mind chose not to care.

_“Then just get rid of it,” Madara absent-mindedly replied, as he laid on the ground and closed his eyes. “You shouldn’t keep the things you don’t like.”_

_“... Okay.”_

Looking back, Madara should’ve known better. His ward has a knack for exceeding his expectations. Had he spared even a second to see what’s wrong, maybe he could’ve prevented this.

(Any other day, he wouldn’t be so worried about his ward. Takashi should be fine—he knows his way around the area, and youkai in this forest are already aware of Madara’s claim over him.)

Nothing should go wrong. But Madara’s instinct tells him otherwise, and there’s a reason why he survived this long, so he holds his breath and strains his ears. And he hears the sound of shouts and cheers of his own kind.

_He drifted off, and dreamt of a small cage with walls that burn his skin; of paper and prayers, of chain and a body made of clay. He dreamt of fate and what was never supposed to be, tragedies and miracles alike._

Madara approaches the source of the commotion. He doesn’t have to say a word—forest dwellers know to make way for him, and Madara finds himself standing in front of, if his guess is correct, a recently activated seal. It comes as a single piece of paper, plastered on a giant boulder which blocks the entrance of a cave.

“There you are.” Unsurprisingly, the child ignores him—Takashi has both hands on the rock’s surface, desperately trying to push the boulder twice his size. “It’s a fresh seal, Takashi. What are you doing?”

Faintly, Madara can hear the slightest crack of his fingers. So of course, now he has to interfere.

“It’s not going to work. You should stop.”

The boy shakes his head. “I have to remove this.” He resumes his herculean task, perhaps unaware of the scent of blood from under his palms. _Reckless._

“Do you even know who’s inside? Do they know you?” There’s no answer, and Madara can feel his hackles rising. _Reckless, too reckless._ “How do you know they won’t attack you next? Do you want a repeat of _last time_?!”

“No!”

“You’re still too weak! You can’t break it, you can’t do it right now!”

“I have to!”

_“Why?!”_

“Because it hurts! I can’t breathe!”

_(“I can’t sleep,” Takashi told him, “It’s too heavy.”)_

_The air,_ Madara realizes, _the air is heavy, laced with spells and traps woven by an exorcist._ How did he not realize it before?

No, how sensitive is Takashi?! Humans aren’t meant to be so attuned to their surroundings; it’s a miracle that Takashi even noticed at all. He’s still a child, so perhaps his perspective isn’t so biased (yet), but that does not explain how the magic could affect him so adversely.

(Unless it was Madara, who had gotten numb. Distracted. Has he? _No way._ )

Well, Madara supposes it’s a valid enough reason. He’ll let Takashi do as he liked, then; the child will eventually give up on his own. That should be a good lesson, too—

**_CRACK!_ **

Madara startles. On the rock, a thin crack begins to form. It expands, bit by bit, from underneath Takashi’s hands until it reaches the paper seal, which falls off the boulder and burns to ashes before it even reaches the ground.

_How?_

Takashi exhales slowly. He lowers his hands, rubbing his chest as he finally looks at Madara. “Okay,” he announces, like a child showing off their tower of wooden blocks, “It’s gone now.”

(Reiko, Reiko, Reiko. But not quite—Reiko would’ve swung her fists and shattered it into pieces.)

“Let’s get out of here, then. And stop wandering off.” _This better not happen again,_ is left unsaid, _It’s too much. You’re too young._

_You’re too **dangerous**._

No, Madara is not afraid. He has seen the rise and fall of hundreds—humans, youkai and exorcists alike. Various clans, mighty names that disappear from the records. Gods, who are worshipped and then forgotten. There’s not a chance he would fear a human child.

And it’s not like he’s worried, either—the child would not trust any human more than him. It’s too late for those exorcists to try to use Takashi. Takashi no longer fits the mold, already too deep into the lives of youkai. Too attached.

So what is this feeling? Why does Madara feel like he can’t take his eyes off the child, lest something worse would happen? It’s unreasonable. It’s irrational. It’s _annoying_.

“Did someone teach you to do that?”

A full second of silence. Then, “No. I just… I just want it to disappear, and you told me magic is all about intent, so I just… I just tried.”

 _‘You misunderstood me,’_ Madara wants to say, _‘I meant that spells are useless if you don’t want them to work. I didn’t mean you can just will it all away. That’s not how it works.’_

_Wishes aren’t meant to come true, Takashi._

“Would you like to find them?” the youkai offers the bait, “The exorcists who did this should still be nearby. We can catch up to them.”

Takashi frowns.

“If we don’t stop them now, they will do it again.”

The child is still, stubbornly, unconvinced.

“What’s wrong? Used up all your power? I can eat them for you,” Madara bargains, “Or just scratch them up a bit. Scare them away from here.”

“… No, thank you.”

That’s… peculiar. “Why not? Aren’t you angry, Takashi?”

_Your grandmother was. Your father, too, though his rage didn’t burn as hot. Did you not inherit their wrath?_

“I’m tired, Nyanko-sensei. I just want to sleep,” Takashi mutters, “Besides, I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Madara laughs. “Even after they hurt you?” Gasping for air, panting, with hands full of scratches and dried blood and “ _Whose name did you take this time, Reiko?”_

_“Not yours, unfortunately. Not yet.”_

“I’m sure they didn’t mean to,” comes Takashi’s answer. Unwavering, as the child stares back at the youkai with _those eyes_ , and Madara wonders if he had made a mistake. Was he too negligent? Did he push too far?

“Please, sensei. Isn’t it over already? Can’t we just leave now?”

Madara relents.

_(Natsume Takashi was 9 when he chose to not be a threat.)_

* * *

_  
-to be continued._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was... fun? Okay, it's more like, it was chaotic to write. Anyways, I wish you have nice holidays, and hopefully next year will be a boring one.  
> (Forgot to say it before, but apologies in advance if my writing style seems to change. I'm experimenting a lot in this story, so... yeah. Thanks for reading ^^)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm lonely, talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Chron_icles)!


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